The Cirqus Voltaire
by Allaine
Summary: Against his will, Clayface has been drafted into a twisted circus that seems to defy natural law, surrounded by people stranger than he.  But perhaps he can become the first to escape the Cirqus with an unlikely friend's aid.
1. Chapter One

Title: The Cirqus Voltaire (1/??)  
Author: Allaine  
Email: eac2nd@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG  
Distribution: www.fanfiction.net, and Gotham PM at ezboard. Anyone interested should just ask and can expect a positive answer.  
Spoilers: Relies on Clayface's story from "Batman: The Animated Series", rather than the comic books. Familiarity with the Disney animated series Gargoyles is helpful, but not required.  
Feedback: Always encouraged, often answered if meaningful, whether positive or negative.  
Disclaimers: Clayface belongs to DC Comics, Kids WB and the Cartoon Network, the producers of the two Batman serials, the talented artists and voice actor, etc. Sapphire is inspired by one of the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles, which is copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company.   
The Cirqus Voltaire, the ringmaster, and certain other characters are _very_ loosely inspired by the pinball game of the same name. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All other characters are original, as is the story.  
Summary: Against his will, Clayface has been drafted into a twisted circus that seems to defy natural law, surrounded by people stranger than he. But perhaps he can become the first to escape the Cirqus with an unlikely friend's aid.   
_______________________________________  
  
Chapter 1  
  
She looked down on the man sprawled on the floor. He didn't appear to be coming out of it. Taking a glass of water, she carefully poured a small amount onto his face.  
  
When she took the glass away, she was surprised, and not by the lack of reaction on his part. Some of the water had tricked down into his open mouth, but he didn't splutter or cough it up. Instead it pooled there, like rain in a ditch.  
  
"Interesting," she murmured. Perhaps there was some blockage in his throat? Experimentally, she lowered a finger into the man's mouth. It encountered resistance, and she withdrew it slightly. What was in this man's mouth? It was as if someone had wedged a sponge into the back of his throat.  
  
"_Very_ intriguing," she muttered.  
  
That was when his hand shot up and grabbed hers by the wrist, and she gasped.  
  
He turned his head to one side and spat out the water before looking up again. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked hotly.  
  
"You can speak," she said. "Amazing!"  
  
He couldn't see her very well. The lighting was poor, and she had a red hood over her head, so that all he could see in the shadows were a prominent chin and the merest hint of sharp cheekbones. "Yeah, I'm pretty amazing," he said sarcastically. "Who are you?"  
  
"Well," she began to say, but he was sitting up. His attention turned to her hand, as her wrist was still held tightly in his own hand. And here the lighting could not disguise her.  
  
"Who are you?" he repeated. "_What_ are you?"  
  
His first thought had been that she was wearing a glove. But his senses told him this was not the case. This was her hand, and it was blue. Not only was her skin a vibrant shade of blue, but she was missing a finger, _and_ her fingertips were pointed.  
  
Gently she extracted her hand from his grip. "I realize this all seems very strange to you right now . . ." she said.  
  
"No shit," he growled.  
  
"But you will have plenty of time to understand what has happened to you," she went on. "To you and your memories."  
  
He looked blankly at her. "My memories?"  
  
She nodded. "They will return to you in time, I promise. They always do." Slowly she took her hood in both hands and lowered it.  
  
He was distracted by what he saw. If there had been any doubt before, it was dispelled. This woman, if she was really a woman, was not human.  
  
Her face, like her hand, was blue. Her thick hair, however, was a bright red, and it cascaded down in waves. Her ears were slightly pointed, and he thought he saw what looked like fangs when he looked between her slightly parted lips. "Whoa," he said, astonished.  
  
"Here I am called Sapphire," she told him simply. "And no, I am not human. I am a gargoyle."  
  
"A gargoyle?" he asked, trying to process this. "You mean like those ugly statues they put on buildings?"  
  
"Yes," she said, sighing, "although most gargoyles you see are only that, statues. My breed is a dying one."  
  
He scratched his head. "You said Sapphire is your name 'here'. It's not your real one? And where is here, anyway? What am I doing here?"  
  
She got off her knees and stood up; without difficulty he did the same. "I have been called by other names, yes," she said, "but here, Sapphire will do. I rather like that name, actually. And as for where here is, I cannot with any certainty tell you our location. We are always moving from place to place, and as you shall find, we are unable to go out into the world and see it."  
  
"Welcome," she said quietly, "to the Cirqus Voltaire."  
  
He looked less than impressed. "A circus? What are you, one of the freaks?"  
  
She did not appear angered by his remark, but she folded her arms and sniffed. "I will forgive that comment," she told him, "because you are in a strange place and do not remember how you came here."  
  
"Like hell I don't," he told her, remembering the night before. "I bought a cheap ticket for this circus of yours, I watched the show, and I left." He put a hand to his head. "Don't remember what happened after that, though," he added.  
  
He was startled when Sapphire grabbed him by the forearm with both hands. "You remember going to the Cirqus?" she asked excitedly.  
  
"Yeah, of course, why?" he asked, looking at her hands on his arm. "And what did you mean before about my memories?"  
  
"Astonishing," she whispered. "You still have your memories. Your name - do you remember that?"  
  
He looked a little guarded. "Yeah, I do," he said, "but I don't know if I should tell you."  
  
"Then don't," she immediately replied, leaning towards him. "The ringmaster has made a miscalculation," she murmured to herself before looking into his eyes. "No matter what," Sapphire told him, "do not tell anyone your name. Do not, in fact, give any inkling to anyone that you have your memories."  
  
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he retorted.  
  
"You have been abducted," she told him finally. "You should have no memory of your previous life. If you were to let it be known that this was not a success, your advantage would be gone. So please, don't speak of it."  
  
"Fine," he muttered, "but it doesn't matter. As soon as I find the tent entrance, I'm getting out of this place."  
  
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," Sapphire cautioned him. "You will not find an exit, no matter how long you look."  
  
He looked at her like she was crazy. "This is nuts," he started to say, but they were interrupted.  
  
"Ah, our new guest."  
  
Both looked at the entrance to Sapphire's quarters. There stood an equally strange apparition - a tall, thin man with sunken eyes, a red frock coat and a top hat. And like the woman next to him, his skin was the wrong color, only his was green. "Who are you?" the abductee asked.  
  
"I am the ringmaster," the new arrival told him. "This is my Cirqus, and all will be explained to you in due time. Sapphire?"  
  
"Yes, sir," she said, looking down.  
  
"Be careful with this man," he warned her. "He is very strong. He is also quite talented. He will be an excellent addition to your magic routine."  
  
"Her what?" the first man asked, bewildered.  
  
"Yes, sir, I see," Sapphire assured the ringmaster.  
  
"Good. Would you like to know your name, my friend?"  
  
He almost told this weirdo where he could stick his name, but Sapphire's words sounded in his head, and he began to wonder if playing along wasn't the best choice. "Yeah," he merely said.  
  
"Sapphire," the ringmaster said, "meet Presto. Presto, Sapphire."  
  
"My name is _Presto_?"  
  
"Presto-change-o!" the ringmaster replied with a joviality that seemed to mock him.   
  
"I already have an assistant," Sapphire reminded him. "Why do I need another one?" She looked worried. "You're not getting rid of Delphine, are you?"  
  
"No, of course not," he assured her. "Delphine is just fine. Presto isn't going to be your assistant, Sapphire; he will be your prop."  
  
"My what?"  
  
"Her what?"  
  
"Presto has a great gift, Sapphire," the ringmaster explained. "One that will work well with your magic act. You see, Presto, you may not realize it at the moment, but you have an amazing power. And while you may not remember who you are or where you came from, your body still remembers how to use this power."  
  
"What's that?" "Presto" asked, playing dumb.  
  
"You can change into any shape."  
  
Sapphire's eyes widened. "Truly?" she asked.  
  
The ringmaster nodded. "Sapphire here will help you access your abilities. By the next show, I trust?"  
  
"Well, I don't know," Sapphire said doubtfully, although Presto figured she was lying, since she knew he had his memories.  
  
"By the next show, Sapphire," the ringmaster told her, and the tone of his voice became positively frigid.  
  
She stiffened. "Yes, sir," she said.  
  
Whatever her role was in this sideshow, Presto realized, she wasn't this man's partner. She was his subordinate, and evidently not a very loyal one, judging from what she had told him earlier.   
  
"You see, Presto," the ringmaster went on, suddenly pleasant again, "Sapphire here is our resident magician. She doesn't really have much in the way of magical ability . . ."  
  
Sapphire glared at him.  
  
"So it's mostly sleight-of-hand, parlor tricks, the usual deceptions. That's where you come in, Presto. The two of you will make the audience _think_ that she's casting a spell to transform you into an animal or something, but in reality, you will make the transformation on your own when she gives you the cue. Got it?"  
  
"I think so," he responded. "I do all the work."  
  
The ringmaster cackled, and Presto stared at him. That had not been the laugh of a sane man. "That's right, Presto. You're the wand with the flowers stuffed inside. You're the top hat with the hidden pouch. I think you'll do just fine here." He adjusted his hat slightly.  
  
"When is the next show?" Presto asked.  
  
"When I say it is," the ringmaster replied. "You'll see that time, like our clowns, is very funny here." Smiling broadly, he bowed his head slightly. "Remember, Sapphire, I want him ready in time for the next show," he added, warning her.  
  
Then he disappeared.  
  
Taking this time to examine his surroundings, Presto saw the walls were curtains, but it was hard to tell where the openings were. Obviously the ringmaster knew, since he'd just slipped through one.   
  
"I hate it when he says that," Sapphire was muttering. "My talents are not 'negligible'. Not great, but not so weak as he makes out. I have been here long enough, why cannot he give me my due?"  
  
"Is this the big top we're in?" he asked.  
  
Sapphire hesitated. "Space is also very funny here, Presto."  
  
He grimaced. "Can he see or hear what we're doing now?"  
  
"No," she told him. "He grants us considerable leeway, since he knows we cannot get out."  
  
"I want to test that theory later," he replied. "But please, do _not_ call me Presto when we're alone."  
  
"All right," she said. "What should I call you?"  
  
He considered this. "When's the last time you left this place?"  
  
"You do not fully understand," Sapphire said patiently. "I have never _left_ this place, as you say. The last time I was outside was the last day I was free."  
  
"Life without parole," he murmured. "When was that?"  
  
"My last day?" she asked. Her eyes seemed to look far away. "I was in France," she finally answered, "and the land was in chaos because that fool Napoleon had escaped from the island of Elba. The year was 1814."  
  
"You're shitting me," he said, disbelieving.  
  
She put a clawed hand over her heart. "It is the truth," she said.  
  
"Do you realize how long ago that was?"  
  
Sapphire frowned. "I have a guess," she said. "We do not see the sun and moon here, and there are no clocks. Time moves as the ringmaster wills it, within these walls that bend without breaking. And the aging process holds no sway here, so we don't even have that to rely on. By doing so," she told him, "the ringmaster keeps us continually off-balance. One of the ways he does so, anyway."  
  
"And of course, new arrivals do not have memories, and so are not able to tell us the time. Normally," she added, "they do not remember. But you, sir, you can tell me. When is it?"  
  
"What's your guess?"   
  
"I would say," she said thoughtfully, "that it has been over forty years."  
  
"That's a long time to be trapped in here," he told her.  
  
She sighed, and despite her apparent youth - she looked younger than he - he detected a note of great weariness. "I became used to time's vagaries a long time ago."  
  
"Well, maybe so, but your internal clock is way off, like you said. When I went to that circus tent," he told her in all seriousness, "the year was 2000."  
  
Sapphire looked astonished, then appalled. "Almost two hundred years," she whispered. "Two centuries as one of that human's trained monkeys." Her eyes began to glow with a red light. "How I despise that human," she growled.  
  
"Whoa, nice special effects," he said.  
  
Her eyes dimmed. "It is a trait all females of my breed share," she said. "Thank you for this information, Pr - I'm sorry, you still haven't said what I should call you."  
  
If she'd been in here for two hundred years, he didn't think she would know who he was, so there probably was no harm. "They call me Clayface," he told her.  
  
"Clayface? How odd."  
  
Whatever else weird things happened in this place, he quickly discovered that, as the ringmaster (and what was with people's skin in here?) had said, his control over his body's ability to metamorphose had not been affected. And after looking at him for just two minutes, already Clayface could replicate the ringmaster's face, which he did for her benefit.  
  
She took a step back. "Incredible!" she gasped, amazed. "And you can do that whenever you feel like it?"  
  
"Yep," he said. "No magic here. Just a body that had things done to it that should never have been done."  
  
"I see," Sapphire replied. "And it's not just your face? You can change everything?"  
  
By way of reply, he turned into her, complete with the red cape that still hid most of her body.  
  
"Unbelievable," she whispered. "In so short a time? Your capacity for mimicry is astounding."  
  
"Thanks," Clayface said. "My whole body is made of this weird clay-like substance. I don't have bones or organs or anything. I used to be a man, but not any more."  
  
"I understand," Sapphire replied in a flash of insight. "So when the water I poured went into your mouth, it remained there because there was no throat for it to go down. And I thought there was some blockage in your mouth."  
  
"Well, you could say that," he said, smirking.  
  
She smiled wryly. "Yes, I suppose I could. And," she realized, "that's why the ringmaster was unable to take your memories. He must not know the true nature of your power, Clayface."  
  
"What are you thinking?"  
  
"He has many powers, among them the ability to detect powers in others which he deems valuable to his stable of circus acts," she explained. "When he saw you, he knew you could change shape. But he didn't know why, I think. He probably just thinks you're a regular human with the power to transform. A human, that is, with a brain."  
  
Understanding arrived. "So he zapped my head with his powers, but since my body doesn't work that way . . ."  
  
"It didn't take," she finished for him. "If he did it to your whole body, though, it might succeed. That's why you _cannot_ let anyone know this."  
  
"Not anyone?" he asked. "Not even your fellow prisoners?"  
  
"Our fellow prisoners," she corrected him quietly. "And no, Clayface. The more people who know a secret, the more likely the secret is no more."  
  
"You're right," he agreed. "You seem pretty excited about this."  
  
She smiled a little. "I would like to see the ringmaster taken down a peg some day. He is an especially insufferable member of his race."   
  
Sapphire removed her cloak and folded it. Now Clayface could see the rest of her body. "Wow," he said. "You have _wings_?"  
  
The membranes, he saw, were a light shade of purple, and she had little blue extensions like small claws where the wings peaked the highest. He also discovered that her feet were also clawed, and she had just three long toes, almost like an ostrich. And just because he no longer had a penis didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a woman's body. She had nice legs and breasts. She wore a black sleeveless dress with a high neck and slits on either side below the waist for her legs and . . . tail. He spotted a tail slowly weaving from side to side.  
  
She turned around slowly so he could see her wings. He saw that enough fabric had been cut out of the back for them to fit. "I have to exercise them a great deal," she told him. "I have not glided on them for, it seems, over one hundred and eighty years."  
  
"Glide?"  
  
"Gargoyles cannot fly," she told him. "We find a high enough place, and we allow our wings to carry us on the winds."  
  
"Cool," he said.  
  
"Anyway," she went on, "we might as well get comfortable. Since you already know how to use your abilities, we can spend the time until the next show talking. I can tell you whatever you wish to know about this cursed place, Clayface, because unless you are able to take advantage of the ringmaster's error, you could be here a very long time."   
  
Clayface definitely didn't want that, he knew. "Has anyone just tried to beat this guy down?" he asked as he sat down.  
  
She chuckled mirthlessly. "I did, of course. Several times, in fact. He can't be killed. I'm not even sure if he feels pain. You can try, of course. He practically expects it from the more powerful people he abducts. You'll see."  
  
He had a hard time believing anyone could defeat him, but then again, the Batman had done it. And if this guy's powers were really so great as to mess with time . . . "I'll get out of this place, don't worry," he assured her.  
  
"I hope you do," she said sincerely.  
  
Clayface grinned. "I think I'm gonna like you."  
  
She smiled. "That's good, because with the secrets we will be keeping, I may be the only friend you will have in these walls."  
  
"You probably don't need a friend like me," he told her. "I'm not too nice a guy on the outside."  
  
"Well," she said calmly, "I'm not so nice a woman, either."  
  
"Then we understand each other."  
  
"Oui."  
  
To be continued . . . 


	2. Chapter Two

Title: The Cirqus Voltaire (2/??)  
Author: Allaine  
Email: eac2nd@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG  
Distribution: www.fanfiction.net, and Gotham PM at ezboard. Anyone interested should just ask and can expect a positive answer.  
Spoilers: Relies on Clayface's story from "Batman: The Animated Series", rather than the comic books. Familiarity with the Disney animated series Gargoyles is helpful, but not required.  
Feedback: Always encouraged, often answered if meaningful, whether positive or negative.  
Disclaimers: Clayface belongs to DC Comics, Kids WB and the Cartoon Network, the producers of the two Batman serials, the talented artists and voice actor, etc. Sapphire is inspired by one of the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles, which is copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company.   
The Cirqus Voltaire, the ringmaster, and certain other characters are very loosely inspired by the pinball game of the same name. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All other characters are original, as is the story.  
Summary: Against his will, Clayface has been drafted into a twisted circus that seems to defy natural law, surrounded by people stranger than he. But perhaps he can become the first to escape the Cirqus with an unlikely friend's aid.   
_______________________________________  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"Welcome again to the Cirqus Voltaire!"  
  
Clayface lurked behind Sapphire and watched as Delphine, a hot little number dressed in deep pink spandex, blue eyes framed by brown curls, set the stage for Sapphire's "magic act". "She's easy on the eyes," he murmured.  
  
"Lucky for you," Sapphire murmured back, "since she'll be the one member of our troupe you spend the most time with, other than me."  
  
"I could live with that," he said appreciatively. "You're pretty good-looking yourself."  
  
"Thanks," she replied drolly.  
  
"Do you think I can trust her with my secret?" he whispered.  
  
Sapphire thought about it for a moment. "Probably not," she decided. "She's a good person, but she's flighty and no genius. We're not especially close, either. I put up with her relentless good cheer," she sighed.  
  
He looked into the crowd. Or tried to. "It's so goddamned dark," he muttered. "How do we even know if anyone's out there? Or if they can see us?"  
  
"They can see us just fine," she told him. "The ringmaster doesn't want us to see them."  
  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
"He's afraid we might be able to tell something of the outside world from their features, their clothes, or their things," Sapphire explained. "As long as we're totally cut off from the real world, he thinks we're kept more firmly under his control."  
  
Clayface shook his head. "Is he right?"  
  
"I don't know," Sapphire admitted.  
  
"And now," Delphine was saying, having completed a series of tumbles and flips, "having recuperated from the successful completion of her most difficult spell yet . . ."  
  
Clayface had been discussing Cirqus personnel with Sapphire when the ringmaster had arrived and, after determining that yes, "Presto" knew how to change his appearance, informed Sapphire that the show was about to begin.  
  
Instantly, before Clayface's startled eyes, Sapphire had turned to stone.  
  
"What did you do?" he had asked, shocked.  
  
"Nothing really," the ringmaster replied. "Did she explain to you about time here?"  
  
Clayface had nodded dumbly.  
  
"Well, Sapphire and the rest of her race, if any still exist," he explained, "turn to stone during the day, and awaken at night."  
  
"So it's morning now?" Clayface had guessed.  
  
The ringmaster had grinned. "I thought you understood, Presto. I determine when it is day and when it is night. I wish Sapphire to be stone now, so it is day. I will want her to be flesh at the start of the show, so it will be night. Very simple, Presto. You'll find life here to be very, very simple. Just do what I say."  
  
When the ringmaster brought Sapphire into the ring later (how much later, Clayface already couldn't tell), she was unchanged, but before everyone's eyes, cracks appeared in the stone surface, and then it shattered like a second skin. Sapphire emerged as flakes sprayed in every direction, roaring to the heavens, claws (she had called them talons) out, her eyes shining red.  
  
"Isn't that amazing?" the ringmaster said grandly. "The only person capable of magically transforming themselves into stone and living to tell of it!" Sapphire had only bowed to huge applause, smiling uncomfortably.  
  
Clayface had done the math. Even if the Cirqus only showed once a week, then fifty-two weeks a year times the one hundred eighty years Sapphire claimed to have been there . . . was ten thousand showings. Ten thousand times she'd been displayed for the masses like a goddamned bearded lady.  
  
At that moment, he felt sorry for her. But he also wondered if he'd be doing this ten thousand times - and his math was probably too conservative, Sapphire had done this maybe thirty thousand times - himself, and he felt a deeper connection to her as well.  
  
Now Delphine was introducing her as the living statue, "Winged Victory stepping down from her pedestal, real as life!"  
  
"Does she say that every time?" he asked.  
  
"She must be as sick of it as I," Sapphire muttered.  
  
"The astounding Sapphire, and her new second assistant, Presto!"  
  
He found himself slowly walking out of the shadows and into the harsh lights, keeping pace behind Sapphire, who was stately in her black dress and red cape, hood down. Being called Presto for the rest of his life . . . he shuddered in his new clothes.  
  
That was right, clothes. Not understanding that Clayface's outfit was actually part of his body, and of course Clayface had not enlightened him, the ringmaster had insisted he dress in a garish vest and leggings with pink and purple diamonds. It felt constrictive against a body used to absolute freedom of movement, but worse, it felt really, really lame.  
  
Turning to face him, she removed her cloak and offered it to him. As rehearsed, he took the cloak from her arm while kissing the back of her hand. This time, however, he looked up at her while he did so and winked.  
  
For the first time that night, he thought she had smiled genuinely.  
  
Then he brought the cloak to a stage hand - that was another thing, he couldn't make out his features, it was like the lighting became dim whenever one of these guys appeared - and returned to his place behind Sapphire and across from Delphine, who smiled sweetly at him.  
  
If only she knew, he thought. Not that he would tell her.  
  
"Thank you for your introduction, Delphine," Sapphire said gravely as she made a fist, even though there was nothing in her hand, and then opened it, throwing nothing into the air - only now there were streams of colored light that swirled upwards and exploded in a miniature fireworks display.  
  
"Nice," he murmured as the crowd ooh'ed.  
  
"A cantrip," Sapphire said through clenched teeth, "one of the only real spells you'll see tonight."  
  
As the time approached for his big scene, Clayface appreciated her reply. Most of this stuff was rote magic tricks - sawing Delphine in half, getting out of handcuffs, the usual. He remembered being bored by this the last time . . .  
  
He blinked. That was something he'd forgotten until now, he realized. He had sat there, a paying customer like all the working stiffs and children around him, the night before and watched Sapphire do her magic act, and not once had her appearance surprised or alarmed him. Nor had it bothered anyone else. You would _think_ that the sight of a woman with blue skin and wings and a tail would frighten a crowd of people, but it hadn't. He hadn't even remembered seeing such a thing until now.  
  
This was so striking that he almost didn't hear his name called. "Presto," Sapphire asked, gesturing to him.  
  
Swallowing his pride and putting aside his puzzlement for now, Clayface came when called.  
  
"Earlier tonight," Sapphire said, "you saw me transform from a stone statue into a living, breathing woman. Now watch as I turn my willing assistant here into things you will not believe!"  
  
"Ready for this?" she asked softly, looking away from the crowds.  
  
"I remember my cues," he said, which wasn't exactly an answer to her question, but Sapphire understood and, bowing her head for a second, backed away.  
  
"Presto!" she called out, pointing a talon at him.  
  
"Change-o!"  
  
His whole body rippled as he turned from a man into a horse, complete with saddle.  
  
Giving the audience just a few seconds to react in amazement and glee, she repeated the words, and this time he became a polar bear, sitting on its rear. Again, and he was a black panther, lounging on the sawdust with tightly coiled menace.  
  
"Presto! Change-o!" Sapphire said one more time, and Clayface was a man again.  
  
The crowds instantly burst into applause, and Clayface could just barely see their hands moving back and forth.   
  
In a normal circus, he supposed this was the best part for the performers, hearing the audience cheer for a job well done. He just felt like a chump, and glancing at Sapphire, he wondered how she could stand almost two centuries of this.  
  
Their eyes met for a moment, and he guessed that she wondered the exact same thing.  
___________________________________  
  
"He's got a nice group of performers," Clayface said afterwards in Sapphire's "room".   
  
"They are very talented," she agreed. "The highwire act, the acrobats, the animal trainer and his menagerie . . ."  
  
"And don't forget the Amazing Roonie," he added.  
  
"Oh yes," she replied, smiling wryly. "Who could forget Sideshow Sam and his unicycle-riding kangaroo?" But then her smile slipped away.  
  
He looked at her. "What?"  
  
She sighed. "You must look at us and think we are the most pathetic collection you have ever seen."  
  
Clayface shrugged uncomfortably. "I seem to be a part of that collection, you know."  
  
"But you could get out," she said.  
  
"You seemed to think earlier that I had no chance."  
  
"I've seen them fail time and again, but . . . you never know. Your power is great, Clayface."  
  
"Thanks for using my real name," he said. "That presto change-o thing is driving me nuts."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"So I could get out," he went on. "Hell, I plan on it. What's the problem with that? Jealous?"  
  
She looked away. "Yes," she told him.  
  
He wasn't entirely surprised. "Because you can't."  
  
"If I couldn't do it in 1814, I certainly can't do it now," Sapphire said heavily, "not after learning to obey his every command for a hundred and eighty years. I used to be someone so different, you know. I used to be strong. I was a warrior. Now I'm one of those dolls that talks only when a man puts his hand up their backs."  
  
"A dummy," he said.  
  
"Is that what they call them now?" she sighed. "I wonder if I even want to leave here now. The world must be so different. My kind - so few when I was kidnapped. Are there any left? And always, she is waiting for me, that look on her face . . ."  
  
"Who's she?"  
  
"No one," Sapphire said too quickly, obviously regretting her slip of the tongue. "Yes, maybe this is my place now, a helpless slave to this farce of a world, while the real world leaves me further behind."  
  
Clayface didn't have to say anything. He had a place of his own somewhere in this little world of the ringmaster's. He didn't have to be her pal outside the ring. But if she envied his chances for getting out, all she had to do was tell the ringmaster everything and he wouldn't remember anything before having water spilled onto his face by a blue-skinned woman. To be blunt, he probably owed her.  
  
And to be honest, he thought he liked her.  
  
"How about I cut you a deal?" he asked.  
  
"A deal," she repeated, dubious.  
  
"We swap stories," Clayface said. "I tell you about me, and more importantly, about this world you seem so intimidated by. And in return, you tell me everything you can about this dump. And when you don't have anything more," he added, "you can tell me about your race, and what it was like living in France back in the days of Napoleon."  
  
She looked at him carefully. "You could be gone in a couple days," she said.  
  
"I could be here for a couple centuries," he replied matter-of-factly.  
  
"Well," she said consideringly, "all right then." Sapphire shook her head. "Someone like I, reduced to playing a title part in 'Two Scheherezades'. But," she admitted, "it won't be the first time I have spent my nights like this."  
  
"Really?" he asked. "When was the first time?"  
  
She grinned now, a little wickedly, as if she knew something he did not. "The Palace Versailles," she responded. "In 1585."  
  
"_Fifteen_ eighty-five?" Clayface said. "Don't you mean _seventeen_ eighty-five?"  
  
Sapphire's smile grew a little broader, and he saw her fangs gleaming at him. "You heard me correctly," she told him.  
  
Doing the math in his head, he stared. "That it'd make you over two hundred years old when the Cirqus grabbed you," he said. "How long do you gargoyles live, anyway?"  
  
"About twice as long as you humans," she replied.  
  
"You look pretty good for your age," Clayface told her. "Do all your senior citizens look like that?"  
  
"Senior citizens," she said blankly. "Oh, you mean our elders. No, we age normally."  
  
"Then how . . ."  
  
Her good humor vanished. "It is a long story," she told him somberly. "As long as I have lived, in fact, and I was over 800 years old when the Cirqus found me."  
  
He whistled.  
  
"And it is not a story with a happy beginning, or a happy ending," she added. "Just a few brief times of happiness, which seem all that much shorter compared to the hundreds of years of loneliness." Sapphire angrily rubbed a tear out of her eye.  
  
"But this is your deal," she said, almost defiantly. Whether she was defying him or her tears, he couldn't say. "And you will not get that story out of me until I have heard one of yours. So begin, unless you want me to call you Presto."  
  
"No, not that," he responded, holding up a hand. "Okay. Speaking of dummies . . . I used to know this guy, he was a ventriloquist, someone who uses one of those talking dolls."  
  
"Right," she said, "they talk without opening their mouths. Another bit of magic, that is not magic at all."  
  
"Yeah," he said. "Anyway, he had this dummy called Scarface."  
  
To be continued . . . 


	3. Chapter Three

Title: The Cirqus Voltaire (3/??)  
Author: Allaine  
Email: eac2nd@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG  
Distribution: www.fanfiction.net, and Gotham PM at ezboard. Anyone interested should just ask and can expect a positive answer.  
Spoilers: Relies on Clayface's story from "Batman: The Animated Series", rather than the comic books. Familiarity with the Disney animated series Gargoyles is helpful, but not required.  
Feedback: Always encouraged, often answered if meaningful, whether positive or negative.  
Disclaimers: Clayface belongs to DC Comics, Kids WB and the Cartoon Network, the producers of the two Batman serials, the talented artists and voice actor, etc. Sapphire is inspired by one of the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles, which is copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company.   
The Cirqus Voltaire, the ringmaster, and certain other characters are very loosely inspired by the pinball game of the same name. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All other characters are original, as is the story.  
Summary: Against his will, Clayface has been drafted into a twisted circus that seems to defy natural law, surrounded by people stranger than he. But perhaps he can become the first to escape the Cirqus with an unlikely friend's aid.   
_______________________________________  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Is there something I can help you with?"  
  
Clayface just kept pushing and prodding the tent wall with his middle finger, which was now three feet long. But the tent was more like rubber than canvas; it just bent and bent and bent.  
  
"Presto?"  
  
Growling, Clayface returned his finger to its usual length, and the tent easily snapped back into place. He'd tried cutting it, smashing it . . . there was no exit to this place, and it didn't look like he could make his own.  
"Damn," he muttered.  
  
He glanced behind him and saw the gleaming black dome of the animal trainer from the Cirqus menagerie. The trainer's rippling muscles were necessary; he'd had to fight off one of his own lions the night before, and had survived. "It can't be done, Presto," the trainer said quietly in his deep voice. He went by the name of Hunter. "There is only one exit, and that is only for the ticket holders."  
  
"You're wrong," Clayface told him. "There's an exit wherever the ringmaster says one is."  
  
Hunter regarded him carefully. "Would you like to speak with him?"  
  
"I've suffered through three shows, Hunter. I can't do this the rest of my life."  
  
"Well, then," Hunter sighed. "Let me take you to him."  
  
Their path took them through the menagerie, and one of Hunter's tigers roared at Clayface. He took the form of an even bigger tiger and roared back. The caged animal retreated.  
  
"Down, Simba!" Hunter ordered the tiger, although it was now unnecessary. "Very nice. You train animals well," he added, looking impressed.  
  
Clayface resumed his normal appearance. "No, I'm just good at scaring."  
  
As they approached the center of the tent, they found Sapphire arguing with another member of the troupe, the knife-thrower. Clayface had learned that Delphine was his assistant as well, in that she was the one tied to a wheel while knives were thrown at her. She now stood near them both, looking as if she wasn't sure who she would be expected to agree with.  
  
"It is too dangerous, Blade," Sapphire insisted. "You have asked me this time and again, and still the answer is no."  
  
"But Sapphire," Blade, another one cursed with an unimaginative name, pleaded. "Knives and more knives, night after night. Your help would lend my act variety. You wouldn't want my act to become boring, would you?" he asked anxiously.  
  
"No, of course not," she replied compassionately, "but this is one of a kind, Blade. I cannot allow it to be stuck in a wooden circle, over and over again."  
  
Clayface came over. "What's the problem?"  
  
"Ah, Presto! Perhaps you can convince her," Blade said, twirling his mustache.  
  
"Ask Delphine, she's known her a lot longer," Clayface muttered.  
  
"No, no, please leave me out of this!" Delphine begged. "No matter what I say, one of you will be angry with me."  
  
"Sapphire, what's he asking for?"  
  
She showed him what she'd been holding in her left hand, her body hiding it from his view. It was a rapier of fine manufacture. "He wishes to throw _this_ at the conclusion of his next act."  
  
"Is that even possible?" he asked, surprised.   
  
"If it were a heavier sword," Blade explained, "no. But the rapier is very light. If I throw it hard enough, it should remain on course."  
  
Clayface chuckled. "If I were Delphine, I wouldn't just stay out of the argument. I'd stay the hell out of the way of that rapier."  
  
Delphine blushed slightly and smiled at him. Clayface felt a little warm and smiled back.  
  
"If you wish to enliven your act, Blade," Sapphire sighed, "just ask the ringmaster. This was a gift. It is very precious to me, and I am afraid of what might happen to it."  
  
"Ask me what?"  
  
Everyone turned and saw the ringmaster approach. Clayface still didn't completely understand why his skin was green, but with the powers he evidently controlled, perhaps it was because he wasn't entirely human. Which might be why he was so allegedly impossible to beat.  
  
Blade trembled a little, but he stood up straight. "I was trying to convince Sapphire to let me use her rapier in my final trick, sir."  
  
"But that is a very special rapier, monsieur," the ringmaster replied. "I went to a great deal of trouble to return it to her, along with her other things, when she proved herself to be a valued member of the Cirqus."  
  
"I wanted to spice things up, sir," Blade explained.  
  
"Very well," the ringmaster decided. "I will provide you with a rapier of your own."  
  
"Uh, thank you, sir."  
  
"But Delphine is very good at what she does," the ringmaster continued. "For tonight's show, you will use a replacement. If all goes well, Delphine will be yours again the following day."  
  
Blade looked hesitant. "Who will be her replacement?"  
  
"Jeanette! Would you mind coming here?"  
  
Clayface watched as another woman emerged from the shadows. "Yes, sir?" she asked timidly.  
  
"Tonight you will take Delphine's place during Blade's knife tossing. Understood?"  
  
Both Jeanette and Blade looked frightened, but she swallowed and said only, "Of course, sir."  
  
"Excellent," he replied. "The two of you can practice for now. Blade, you will find the rapier by your knives."  
  
"Yes, th-thank you for your generosity," Blade stammered. Looking angrily at Sapphire for a moment, he took Jeanette by the arm and left with her.  
  
Clayface tried to remember who she was. Best that he could recall, Jeanette was one of the acrobats. Not one of the stars, one of the supporting players. She looked about ten years older than Delphine, not as pretty, but definitely a gymnast's body.  
  
Sapphire shook her head. "Nasty business," she murmured, further confusing Clayface.  
  
"What, Sapphire?"  
  
"Nothing," she assured the ringmaster.  
  
Smiling, he turned to leave.  
  
"Sir, Presto here would like a word with you," Hunter finally spoke.  
  
The ringmaster turned back, looking none too surprised. "Yes, Presto? Is there something I can help you with?"  
  
Clayface nodded. "I realize that everybody seems to walk on eggshells around you . . ."  
  
Sapphire closed her eyes.  
  
"But I haven't quite figured everything out yet, so I'll be plain, ringmaster = there's no exit. There's no way out. And I don't like being cooped up in here."  
  
"Really?" the ringmaster asked, smiling. "And after we took you in, what with your head injury and your amnesia and all?"  
  
"I think," Clayface told him, "you should open the tent a little early today. Because I'm leaving this place."  
  
The ringmaster nodded. "Then come this way." He walked away.  
  
"Be careful," Sapphire warned him. "He is like this cursed tent. He bends, but he does not break."  
  
"What the hell was that all about with Blade and the acrobat?" Clayface asked before he forgot.  
  
"This, too, is something you will learn in time," Sapphire said softly. "Both Blade and Jeanette have been with the Cirqus for a very long time, almost as long as I. I will explain later."  
  
"I might not be here later," he pointed out.  
  
She smiled bitterly. "I hope you are correct."  
  
Frowning, he turned away and followed after the ringmaster.  
  
Eventually he found himself in the center ring. The ringmaster was standing on a short podium, but he leapt down and landed on his feet. "I am the ringmaster," he said. "Defeat me for what you ask."  
  
Clayface smiled evilly and smacked his fists together. "This should be fun," he said.  
  
"Oui, monsieur," the ringmaster answered. "For what is the Cirqus but fun? Marvel at what you are about to see, Presto. Do your worst."  
  
He looked around and saw people gathering in the shadows, but at a safe distance. He spotted a blue tail moving restlessly, and saw Sapphire watching.  
  
Transforming into a massive silverback gorilla, Clayface pulled back his arm and struck a vicious blow to the ringmaster's face.  
  
The ringmaster made no response at first. Instead, his back bent backwards in a ninety-degree angle, and then sprang back into place like it was on hinges at the waist. "Is that the best you've got?" he sneered.  
  
Shocked, Clayface made a double fist and crushed him across the face, lifting him off his feet.  
  
He got up nonchalantly and dusted himself off. "You make me weep - nothing!" he laughed.  
  
Snarling, Clayface decided to end this once and for all. Transforming one arm into a giant blade, he swept it around and cleanly lopped the ringmaster's head off. It bounced away and rolled to a stop.  
  
"There," Clayface retorted. "How do you like them apples?!"  
  
He heard a strange sound, like the turning of gears. Then, slowly, something _pushed_ its way out of the collar of the ringmaster, whose body had remained standing. Something like hair.  
  
Before Clayface's eyes, the ringmaster's head emerged from inside the body, like a machine. "I am the ringmaster," he said, walking over and retrieving his top hat, which had remained fixed to the first head the entire fight. He put it on and straightened it. "I think you've had enough for today."   
  
"This is not fucking possible," Clayface whispered.  
  
The ringmaster pointed his arm at Clayface, and his hand retreated into the sleeve. "Fire the cannon!" he ordered, and there was an explosion of fire and smoke from the empty sleeve.  
  
Clayface felt a great weight strike him in the chest and throw him three feet backwards. "Unghhh," he moaned, trying to get up.  
  
"Some wouldn't have survived that, Presto," the ringmaster said. "I guess you're just - lucky."  
  
He looked down and saw a black iron cannonball lying at his feet. Clayface wondered just what else this ringmaster was capable of.  
  
The cannonball popped in two, and something floated out - two bright red balloons, which slowly rose before him.  
  
"Presto, look out! The boom balloons!" Sapphire suddenly called out.  
  
"The what?" he thought, still a little groggy.  
  
"Au revoir, Presto," the ringmaster said. "Arrivederci, adios - goodbye."  
  
Both balloons exploded in his face, and that was the last thing he remembered.  
______________________________  
  
"Clayface?" someone whispered.  
  
He groaned. "Sapphire?"  
  
She breathed a sigh of relief. "You're alive," she said.  
  
"Hey, it takes a lot more than some hydrogen-filled balloons and a trick gun to stop me," Clayface muttered as he tried to sit up. His whole body felt stiff.  
  
"The ringmaster, Clayface, does not use tricks," Sapphire told him. "He makes me use tricks because he wants to limit my powers. But his powers are absolutely real."  
  
He hadn't really believed until now that this was a matter of sorcery. He'd thought it advanced technology. But . . . "Black magic?" he asked doubtfully.  
  
"Yes," she said.  
  
"What about the show?"  
  
"Delphine and I did it without you," Sapphire told him. "The ringmaster was upset that I tried to help you, so I was compelled to perform one of my old 'illusions'."  
  
Clayface looked at her. "What?"  
  
She stood up and showed him her chest.  
  
He stared at her. "That's a nasty scar you've got there, Sapphire. Were you shot?"  
  
"No, I was stabbed with my own rapier," she replied. "During tonight's show."  
  
Clayface gaped at her. "That's not possible," he said.  
  
"You mean like you surviving not one, but three explosions?"  
  
"But you're flesh, Sapphire!"  
  
"I am also immortal, Clayface. I cannot die. How did you think I managed to live for 800 years before my abduction?" she asked. "Once, long ago, my magic act consisted of me being stabbed and burned and shot," she added softly, "and letting the audience watch as my wounds healed magically."  
  
"Torture?" he asked, stunned. "Who the hell would watch something like that?"  
  
She sighed, irritated. "Must I explain everything to you? This Cirqus is all about _memory_, if you hadn't figured that out yet. Sometimes people get hurt in the ring, Clayface, and sometimes they die. But all the crowds ever remember after they leave is what a great time they had, and how they'll recommend it to all their friends, and boy, wasn't that amazing?" Sapphire tapped her head. "They only remember the fun parts."  
  
Now he realized why he'd forgotten watching Sapphire's act the night he was kidnapped. It was more of this sick bastard's black magic. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.  
  
She shook her head. "No, I am," she answered. "Tonight has been very stressful, with your defeat - you are very lucky he did not discover your secret, by the way - and my injuries, and Blade . . ."  
  
Clayface sat up. "What about Blade?"  
  
"He swore to me that he had practiced it a hundred times before the show," she told him. "Maybe that was why. Maybe he was tired. Or maybe it was something else."  
  
"Something else?"  
  
"What do you think happens to Cirqus members eventually?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know," he admitted. "I hadn't thought of it. You've been here two centuries, right?"  
  
She shrugged. "I am far too valuable, because of my special gifts," she said. "But sooner or later, others wear out their welcome. Their skills deteriorate eventually, or become outdated. The audiences lose interest. And the performers - they don't retire, you know. Things happen to them."  
  
His mouth felt dry, which was strange, considering it was always dry. "So what did I miss?"  
  
"Blade threw the rapier, and it had the distance, and it pierced Jeanette's throat and killed her," Sapphire said.  
  
"No fucking way," he whispered.  
  
"Jeanette was once one of our stars," Sapphire informed him. "But the ringmaster found other acrobats who were better, and she was relegated to the supporting cast. I think she was losing her touch. So he disposed of her."  
  
"You're saying maybe it wasn't Blade's fault?"  
  
"He has a _damned_ good arm," she said. "The rapier may have curved in flight, I don't know. Maybe if I had lent him mine, it wouldn't have happened."  
  
"What happens to him now?"  
  
"You heard him before. His act needed spicing up. It was losing popularity. The ringmaster has his excuse now. If you want to know where Blade is, you'll have to ask Hunter."  
  
Staring at her, he slowly got up and moved past her. Shoving curtains aside, he stormed towards the menagerie. "Hunter!" he called out.  
  
The trainer appeared. "Ah, Presto," he said calmly. "You were amazing today. I am sorry . . ."  
  
"Where's Blade?"  
  
Soundlessly Hunter pointed to Clayface's right.  
  
Turning his head, the only thing there was a cage, with a spider monkey inside. It gripped the bars with dexterous fingers and tail, and stared at him.  
  
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he said.  
  
The monkey screeched, hurting his head, and he ran.  
  
The ringmaster watched him go. "You will learn, Presto. They all learn."  
  
To be continued . . . 


End file.
